


What Happens Undercover

by you_guys_are_losers (courting_insanity)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Black Dahlia - Freeform, F/M, Jealousy, superhero au, superhero!mj
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:21:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23386531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/courting_insanity/pseuds/you_guys_are_losers
Summary: A prompt request based off of "Into the Black."
Relationships: Michelle Jones & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Comments: 16
Kudos: 61





	What Happens Undercover

“I could’ve handled this by myself, you know.” 

Peter glances at MJ from across the darkened alleyway, the metallic eyes on his suit widening. “I know that,” he says quickly, moving to run a hand through his hair before remembering that he is wearing the black stealth suit. For some reason, since they’ve begun to go out in the field together, Peter’s been finding himself fidgeting more and more. 

It probably has something to do with the piercing stare she is perfectly willing to fix on him at any given moment. Somehow she always manages to do the opposite of what Peter was expecting. 

“I know that,” he said quickly. “I mean, I know you can handle yourself. But we tend to back each other up around here. Especially with undercover stuff.” 

She arches an eyebrow at him, tipping her head slightly to the side as an old, broken AC unit crunches to life above them, causing both to shoot a glance in the direction of the abandoned apartment complex the noise is coming from. Her eyes return to him in a moment, gauging him for the truth of his words. She is seemingly satisfied as she turns her gaze back to the darkened street they are watching, shrugging. 

“I’m pretty convincing,” she hums, her fingers skimming the rough brick beside them as her eyes scan the darkness. “You’re going to have a boring time babysitting, Parker.” 

“Nothing would make me happier,” Peter sighs, shifting his weight. He’s still sore from his last sparring session with Natasha, though he’s getting better. He’s even been able to take her down once or twice, though never for more than an instant. Whatever type of spider he was bitten by is no match for a Black Widow– at least, not yet. 

MJ notices him rotating his sore shoulder, and Peter could swear there is amusement in her eyes. “Or maybe I’ll let them catch onto me, just to give you something to do. It’s pretty fun to watch you get your ass handed to you.” 

“See, most of the time I’d assume you’re screwing with me, but I’m a little concerned you mean that and I’m gonna end up getting a car thrown at me by one of these guys.” 

“Good, you’re learning.” 

Peter grins slightly beneath the mask, watching her smirk play with the edge of her mouth for a moment before turning to follow your gaze. “You really think they’re gonna let you join?” he asks carefully. “I mean, I trust you. It’s just that the last time I saw one of these telepaths up close, they didn’t seem interested in talking.”

“Normally, I’d be a little more cautious,” MJ admits, letting out a breath. Peter watches as she adjusts the dark leather jacket she wears over her black leggings, boots, and top. It’s different than the style of clothing she normally wears around the tower; if he had to guess, she’s been learning a thing or two from Natasha as well. 

“But we’ve been flirting with this meeting for months, and-” 

“Flirting?” 

MJ shoots him an amused look at the interruption, raising an eyebrow. “Hacking, Peter. We’ve been hacking back and forth, testing each other’s limits a bit. Whoever it is, they’re good… And they know I am, too. That’s how they stumbled upon me, and that’s also how they weren’t able to draw me out until I wanted to be found.” 

“Uh, right.” Peter doesn’t know why the word burst from his lips; he’s heard her use similar language to talk about her computer abilities before. It’s how Stark found her, and it’s why he’ll show up to their suite in the tower every so often to ask her opinion on coding. Peter’s never seen Tony do that with anyone else. 

So why did that particular word bug him? 

“In their eyes, I’ve established credibility. Whoever this group is, they’re careful, but they’re recruiting. And as far as they know, I’m a loner. If I can prove myself, I’m a prime candidate to join them. They’ve got skills, but they don’t have mine.” 

“Thank God for that,” Peter hums, shooting her a grin. “I wouldn’t want to be against you in a fight.” 

“Yeah, I’d wipe the floor with you.” 

“Damn straight.” 

The interaction leaves Peter feeling warm in the nighttime chill, and he lets out a breath as something moves on the edge of his vision. His eyes are extremely sharp, thanks to his suit’s enhancement paired with his super senses, and he can see someone moving a long way down the street. Soon, they’ll be here. 

“Alright,” he murmurs, shooting her a look. “Be safe. I’ll be in your ear the whole time.” 

“If you start doing that humming thing you do, I’ll put laxatives in your coffee for a week.” 

“That was one time, MJ!” 

“One time too many.” 

With that, the Dahlia has slipped out of the alleyway and into the street, and Peter feels his entire body tense as he activates the cloaking tech that he and MJ have been working on with his suit, something Stark had been experimenting with based off of his team’s work in the company before all of this. His suit fades from view, along with the rest of him, leaving the alleyway looking empty. A sound barrier clicks into place around him as well, ensuring that he won’t be detected. 

His heart is in his throat as he watches the approaching figure step into view, standing several yards away from MJ, whose back is currently turned to him. Her long, loose curls drift softly in the night breeze, and the ghostly glow of the single streetlamp that it still lit in this part of town causes the few wisps that drift around the crown of her head to appear like a burning halo. 

The newcomer certainly does not miss the likeness. 

The man– no, _boy,_ Peter realizes– is silent for a moment, simply taking her in. He has short, dark hair that is just disheveled enough to make it look like he has run his fingers through it. He wears dark colors, as she does, and his features are bathed in the bronze glow of the lamp. His dark eyes don’t leave hers, and Peter can’t help but think that he looks like a superhero, too. 

But Peter knows what he is, and he knows that the moment those dark eyes turn silver the very ground beneath them could split and swallow them whole. 

MJ, to her credit, does not flinch. Her posture is as strong and unapologetic as ever, and Peter can’t help but think that she looks ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. It’s the way she looked when she entered the compound for the first time: like she has been fighting her whole life, and she isn’t afraid of another battle. 

“It’s you.” 

The man’s voice is quieter than Peter expected, softer. He nearly flinches as the telepath takes another step closer to MJ, studying her carefully. “You’re the one I’ve been contacting.” 

“Let’s be clear on one thing: I’m the one who’s been doing the contacting.” 

Her response is so purely MJ that Peter has to stop himself from catching his breath. Bold, prodding… She is testing his limits, his reaction. She did the same thing to Peter as they first got to know one another; still does, really. 

The telepath shakes his head slightly, and a small grin slides onto his lips. It’s cautious, careful… But it’s genuine. Peter doesn’t know why he hates it so much. 

“My mistake,” he responds smoothly, gaze unwavering. “You’re right. I wouldn’t have found you if you didn’t want to be found.” 

MJ does not speak, though he is clearly waiting for her to. She is keeping her cards close, waiting for him to show his before she shows hers. Clever. She’s cleverer than him. 

“Why did you?” The question from this man’s lips is quiet, earnest, and Peter doesn’t like the softness his tone has taken. These people are deceivers, he is certain of that. In order to cause the level of destruction they have, in order to recruit as many as have joined them, they have to be. 

MJ knows this. Peter knows she does. But some part of him is scared she’ll forget, scared that she’ll experience a click with these people that she hasn’t felt with the Avengers. After all… These people’s abilities, aren’t they more like hers than Peter’s are? 

What is there to prevent her from joining them, other than loyalty that has only recently been forged? His heart speeds up. 

“They don’t understand people like us,” she replies simply. This time, MJ is the one who steps closer to him, broken glass and loose gravel shifting across the asphalt, displaced by the soles of her boots. 

“They fear what they don’t understand. They fear me.” 

Peter swallows. She’s not wrong… The distrustful looks from the Winter Soldier and from the Black Widow have followed her like her own shadow throughout the compound, and Wilson almost immediately steps to Bucky’s side when she enters a room. Even Cap, who has tried to remain as neutral as he can on her presence, glances to his best friend every time she enters the room, though he is covert about it. 

They’re afraid of what she can do, and they tolerate her because they need her. If these people welcome her with open arms, what is there stopping her from walking into them? 

“They don’t understand me, either,” murmurs the boy, soft enough that Peter is beginning to have a hard time hearing him over the wire. Peter is already trying to figure out the quietest way to get closer to them when the volume increases and a breath catches in his throat. She’s making sure he can still hear as the telepath continues. 

“They don’t understand our aims, our goals, our society. But we’re going to get through to them, in the end.” 

“That’s pretty optimistic for a member of a covert society that is currently #1 on every government’s radar.” 

Peter’s heart hammers, and he is ready to leap to action at a moment’s notice if he needs to. However, over the wire, Peter hears soft laughter. Somehow, that only increases his urge to ball his hands into fists. He doesn’t like the way her shoulders relax slightly, the way that the man cocks his head like a hound dog, looking her up and down. 

“You’re… Not what I thought you’d be.” 

“Really.” It’s not a question, and as MJ mirrors his posture, tipping her chin up, Peter’s breath catches. “And what expectation did I fail to live up to?” She takes another step, testing the waters. In response, the empath closes the rest of the distance between them so that they’re nearly standing chest-to-chest. 

“Not one. I just didn’t expect you to exceed them so easily.” 

Peter’s heart in his throat, and it’s not because he fears for her safety. Not even close. 

He wants to speak over the wire, to let her know that he’s here on standby if she sees a weapon. He knows she’s more than capable of handling it; that’s not why he has to resist the petty urge. 

He wants her attention, and he wants it to be taken away from this tall, dark stranger. 

The realization lands with all the ferocity of a blow. He cares what she thinks of him, cares whether or not she is by his side in the fight that is coming up. And, as startling as the realization is, he doesn’t just want her there as a sister in arms. 

He wants her there because he’s grown to rely on her presence, and he longs to know whether she feels the same. 

“No, no,” he mutters to himself, catching his breath. “Not now.” 

Ahead, MJ’s shoulders stiffen slightly, and it is only then that Peter remembers that he is on a live wire. _Shit._ However, the movement is imperceptible, and she hides it by brushing her curls over one shoulder as she examines him. 

“I’m not so sure I want to be a part of this, if you’re so easily impressed.”

The empath chuckles, but Peter could swear that his eyes have flickered to MJ’s neck, to the place it meets her shoulders. The place that she is holding just a bit of residual tension from her reaction to Peter’s voice in her ear. However, just when Peter is about to intervene, his eyes travel back to her face. 

“You haven’t shown me what you have to offer us, though. At least, not outside of your skills with a laptop. Thanks, by the way. That virus you engineered was brilliant; I barely noticed it before it had fried my mainframe.” 

“You’re welcome. Always a pleasure.” 

This time, the empath is silent. So he is learning from MJ... She is going to have to give him what he wants, a demonstration of her abilities. And once she does, he’ll know... He’ll know so much about her, why she is the way she is. He’ll begin to understand her depth, her strength, the things that no one could possibly know without being let into her mind just a bit. 

Peter isn’t ready for that, even though that’s not his decision to make. What if this empath has some way of manipulating that, what if he uses the information to take her down?

MJ’s words from before flash in his head as a memory, as clearly as though she had said them beside him. _“I can handle myself.”_

She trusts him; she’s shown him that by permitting him to be here, and in the small ways she’s let him catch glimpses of her over the past few months. MJ is okay. He just has to let her prove it. 

Across from MJ, the empath’s eyes widen, and Peter knows she is doing it. Confusion enters his eyes, and then they glaze over, tranquil. Unseeing. Peace floods him, and he stumbles. 

This is her window. 

MJ catches his shoulders, supporting him. She takes the opportunity then, slipping the tracker underneath his shirt collar as her fingers grasp her shoulders, careful. The movement is so quick, so natural, that it would have been impossible for him to notice. 

Right? 

As she helps him stand, his eyes clear. The stranger’s eyes immediately meet hers, and for a moment Peter thinks that he might see suspicion in them. But there is no way for him to find any proof of whatever he might be thinking. The tracker has its own cloaking tech, and Peter and MJ have worked tirelessly with Stark to ensure that it will not show up on any security scans. 

“Whoa,” he breathes, catching his breath as he looks at her. However, it takes him a moment to stand completely on his own, and that is another moment the two are touching, sharing his weight. Peter swallows and glances away, listening. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs. 

Peter doesn’t have to see his face to know that there is a wry smile twisting her lips. The tone of her voice only confirms it. “I did what I said I would. I mean what I say.” 

The empath takes a breath, contemplating her a moment longer than Peter is comfortable with. Finally, he says, “The Council will be pleased. The next time we meet, we will discuss it.” 

_Next time._ They’re in. 

MJ, to her credit, does not let the triumph that Peter knows they both feel show in her body language. Instead, she just nods, and then she glances over her shoulder as though scanning for any potential threats. The perfect display of paranoia: enough to show this empath that she is discreet, but also that he will have to work for it to get her to trust him. 

He’ll have to reveal more. 

“You know where to find me... If I want to be found, that is.” She turns her head back to him just long enough to murmur, “Until we meet again.” 

“I look forward to it.” 

Peter does not like the tone of the stranger’s voice, nor does he like the way that the boy’s eyes linger on her for a moment before he turns. Then, swiftly, he slips away, turning into a nearby alleyway. Peter waits until he can no longer hear the sound of any footsteps to de-cloak his suit. Immediately, MJ has turned, an eyebrow raised. 

“Not now?” 

Peter winces, letting his mask come off as he looks at her. “I, um... The tech was glitching. I think it’s the update package I made last night, something must be wrong.” 

MJ studies him for a moment longer, and just when Peter thinks he is about to get called out, she shrugs. “Well, it didn’t matter much. We’re in.” 

Her eyes gleam, and Peter sees a flash of pride in them. He can’t stop the grin crossing his lips. “You’re in,” he corrects. “You did it.” 

“You sound surprised.” 

Peter’s grin fades, and he finds himself resisting the urge to step closer the way that the empath did, testing. He doesn’t need to emulate someone else... He and MJ have rapport. They’re friends. 

He kind of wants to be more. 

“I can swing us back.” He isn’t sure where the offer comes from, but as soon as it does his eyes widen. MJ raises an eyebrow, but Peter thinks that he sees her eyes widen a fraction of an inch. 

“Really?” 

“I mean, it-it would get us out of here quicker than the way we came,” he points out, swallowing. “And I can carry you, it wouldn’t be an issue, because I... Can carry buses.” 

A smirk crosses her lips, and a wicked gleam enters her eyes as she begins to walk, not waiting for him to follow. “Are you showing off, Spider-Man?” She tosses a disbelieving smile over her shoulder as he hurries to catch up, shaking his head quickly. 

“I-- no, I’m not! I’m not, I just...” 

“You’re upset because you didn’t need to jump to my rescue.” 

“No, I’m...” 

_Jealous._

The word nearly stops him short in the alleyway, and her eyes turn quizzical as he slows slightly beside her. “Yeah?” she presses, and for a moment her face loses all amusement. Her eyes are as piercing as blades as they take him in, missing nothing. 

“Yeah, I am. You got me.” 

A moment of tension, and then the smirk returns. “It’s okay, Parker. You’re not totally useless. You’re sticky.” The teasing is back to normal, and Peter lets out a breath. 

“Don’t forget the buses.” 

“Oh, right. Because you’re the only superhero who can bench press.” 

“Hey, I beat the Winter Soldier in a fight once.” 

“You did not-” 

“I, like, stopped his fist.” 

“Not the same thing.” 

“Yeah? I’d like to see you do it.” 

“Sounds good. When we get back, I’ll ask him to arm wrestle.” 

Peter lets out a huff of laughter, and then they are back to their normal rhythm of banter. It’s relaxed, and Peter knows it. Everything is the way it’s supposed to be. 

Except for the little, intrusive voice that has been planted in his head, the one that whispers things that he doesn’t want to examine now, things that are better thought out in the dark, where he doesn’t have to look at them straight-on. 


End file.
